Magical
by IchigoXYoruichi11
Summary: Do as you want with the story, and please send me links to your version. Please make it a Romance and read the top of my version.


I in no way own this and I am just putting it up as a way to get it out there and see where people take it.

Please make it a romance with any female from harry potter, Alive or back from the dead(just explain how they are back)and if someone could make one with tonks and send it to me that would be great.

One last thing, No Ginny pairing please.

July 30, 1993, Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

"I really don't feel so good," declared the smallest resident. The years of being underfed and general abuse by his relatives –he'd rather die than call them 'family'- had taken their toll upon his body. Extremely underweight; under-height and with the vision of a bat without his glasses Harry Potter did one of the few chores that he found some solace in: weeding the garden. He found that the tranquility of tending it was as close to an escape as he could get from his housemates. Especially when adding in the insanely hot temperatures. He didn't care if it was measured in Fahrenheit or Celsius, either way it felt like it was about a thousand degrees in the shade forget being exposed to the sun. In truth, it was closer to an even hundred Fahrenheit with a maxed out hundred percent humidity yet no signs of rain to be seen in any direction.

The extreme heat index outdoors guaranteed that Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley were inside enjoying the air conditioning while he slaved away in the garden. Harry's owl, Hedwig, was sound asleep in the oven that was the second bedroom as sometime during the school term Vernon decided to seal off the vents, allowing zero airflow from either the furnace in the winter or the blessed air conditioner in the summer.

Under the pretext of watering the plants and softening the soil he drank rather greedily from the hose pipe, making a point to keep his back to the house so if on the off-chance that anybody looked outside all that they would see would be water falling to the ground. Yet the water, which worked wonders for his thirst, did not make the queasiness go away. Glancing in the general direction of the sun, he estimated that there was but an hour or two of daylight left and decided to abandon his task for the day.

He took great care and diligence to clean -in the case of the trowel and soil claw sharpen- the tools he had been using before returning them and the hose to the shed. Before venturing into the building he had made certain that Vernon nor Dudley were laying in wait for a lapse of awareness to lock him in, as they had taken great delight in doing in the past.

After making certain his person was as clean as could be, he ventured indoors to be greeted by the puce-colored face of his oh so loving Uncle.

"Boy, what are you doing?" he demanded, hands already balled into fists and looking for any "good" reason to begin what was a well-deserved beating.

The response was not as expected. Instead of a quiet response accompanied by resignation to the situation and potential waffling hoping to avoid said beating, Harry temporarily lost control of his magic from a sudden surge. The Dursley's would swear that it was electricity that was lancing from "the freak", using every available extremity as an outlet. Even the individual hair follicles on his head were sending out the tendrils of magic made manifest, racing upwards in a bizarre light-show. The light bulbs overhead exploded rather spectacularly when the tendrils made contact, as did the television that was kept in the kitchen for Dudley.

As quick as it started, the show that would impress –and worry- Albus Dumbledore stopped. Vernon, having been the closest living being to the walking power plant that was Harry looked the part of having stuck his finger in an outlet. The thicker hairs on his head stood up while the finer ones were burned off, leaving a puffed mustache, smoking dome and no eyebrows.

"I don't feel so good," the youth finally deadpanned, after taking in the wanton destruction. There was still the occasional piece of glass hitting the floor, breaking the silence. Harry took this as his cue to head up to his room, knowing that when his 'family' came out of their shock there would be hell to pay.

Upon entering his room, and hearing the articulate roar of rage downstairs, he paused at finding a House-Elf perched on his bed. Shutting the door, his magic lashed out again tripping then melting the locks making it impossible for them to be opened. This happened just in time for the door starting shaking from the impacts of the out of control Vernon.

"Harry Potter sir," greeted Dobby, launching himself from the bed to the young wizard's legs. "Dobby felt Harry Potter sir's magic, Dobby has come!"

"Now's not a great time," he tried to soothe the hyperactive creature attached to his lower half. "I'm not feeling my best and am going to sleep."

"Dobby understands Harry Potter sir," replied the Elf, "but that is why Dobby is here. Master Harry Potter sir is maturing too soon! Maturity not supposed to happen until seventeen!"

"What are you talking about?" Harry quasi-glared at his wayward friend, sitting down on his bed. "Nobody ever mentioned a maturity to me."

"Dobby only knows of it because of seeing it young Master," the smaller of the two answered while climbing onto the same chair he had the year previous. "Wizards core grows likes their body, from fourteenth year to seventeenth, with a last great surge in sixteenth year Harry Potter Sir. It beings a sign of Adulthood. Is supposed to happen likes life growing: slowly. Master Harry Potter sir's core is trying to grow too fast, likes its being blocked."

Here was yet another wonderful piece of information that people had apparently felt he could do without. He was well aware of the concept of puberty and understood what the Elf with abnormally large eyes was trying to tell him –even if it was abstract in the extreme. The part about a blockage wasn't entirely surprising, given everything else that had happened in the last two years. It explained his recent difficulties with his control, something that hadn't happened since beginning his magical education. Having a sudden bout of inspiration from that train of thought, he pulled the loose floorboard up and extracted his wand.

The moment he made contact with it, there was another massive surge. His magic took on a life of its own, first by completely sealing the room then inducing a coma-like state. Once Harry was out, his body levitated to his bed where it came to rest with him on his back and his arms crossed over his chest. From there it sought out the other two occupants of the room and induced magical comas before settling them next to his body. The tendrils of power appeared again, this time seeking out the sole lamp and the few power outlets. Once the connections were established, the power within Harry folded back upon itself before pulsing outwards three times.

From space, looking down upon the London suburbs, domes of energy could be seen racing around the world. The first pulse demolished the core blocks and any foreign magic tied into said core. The second hijacked the wards of Number Four making it Unplottable and tweaking the Blood Ward into a Blood Fidelius, erasing knowledge of the house from the memories of all except for the residents. The third and final pulse modified the memories of the entire Wizarding world. They could recall that Harry Potter stopped the Dark Lord on October 31, 1981. Everything beyond that, including his first two years at Hogwarts, was locked away.

September 1, 1993 Hogwarts Express en route to Hogsmeade

"Another year, another DADA professor," grumbled Hermione Granger, not liking the fact that there was no consistency in the school. The sole occupant of the compartment slumbered on, unaware of her rumbling as the full moon was two days previous. Her anger also stemmed from the fact that Ron Weasley was being a foul git, starting at the end of July. They'd been having conversations about . . . somebody . . . and the odd desire to get him away from his abusive relatives whomever they were when his entire attitude changed. He started boasting about "his" accomplishments first and second year, defending the school from Dark Wizards, Basilisks and Frauds.

She knew better, however. There was a vague recollection of a boy with a raven's nest for hair, emerald green eyes and a lightning bolt scar. Trusting her instincts, she knew that he was the one to do the things that Ron was currently recapping to some first years three compartments away, generating awe and respect as his stories became more outlandish. Somewhere along the way First Year included a Chimera and a Hungarian Horntail while Second revolved around wandless magic.

Feh, wandless indeed. He just didn't want to admit to breaking his wand before the start of the term, the berk.

If it had just been some boasting and ego inflation, she could have let it slide. Sometime in August, however, his attitude towards her had completely changed. He started insisting that she owed him a Life Debt for saving her from the troll and had to repay it as he saw fit to which he dropped his drawers. That part of the memory was the only thing she could laugh at, as his block and tackle left a lot to be desired. Having done the odd babysitting duty for relatives, she was aware of a couple of her cousins that were bigger than him from having to change nappies.

Ron's behavior had gotten to the point that before storming out of the Burrow, for good as she later learned from a Howler from Molly Weasley, she loudly stated that fact to the present members of the family; she had not been impressed by the latest row, and after the uber-insult to her youngest boy declared her persona-non-grata to the family while proving that even the Light families have blood prejudice. That dreadful word that had ruined a friendship in the past generation had done it again, embittering Hermione to any of the "purebloods". If that wasn't enough to do it, being called every female slander this side of the Pond was more than enough motivation to sever her ties with that family.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was loving life. Since he had larger fish to fry than worry about a nonexistent rival, he set himself to the task of solidifying his hold in Slytherin. He had caught wind of the fallout between Weasley and Granger, thanks in part to Mother Weasley running off at the mouth in Diagon Alley. He'd have time to gloat later, right now he was making his way up and down the train bullying the first years that dared to cross his path.

The entire year was normal for once, with the glaring exception of a competent Defense professor. There had been rumblings from the Gryffindor Quidditch team when they realized that they didn't have a Seeker this year and for the life of them couldn't remember who had been for the previous two.

At the Leaving Feast did things get exciting again. Hermione and Neville Longbottom, the outcasts of Gryffindor thanks to Ron and his vindictive streak, were seated at the end closest to the doors. Even the twins Fred and George had left them alone, on threat of expulsion from the family if Molly caught wind of even pranking "the bitch". The two were in a conversation about summer plans when the hairs on her neck stood up, causing her head to follow.

"What is it?" wondered the Longbottom Heir, his own internal warning system going off.

"I don't-" was all she got out before looking out the massive windows behind the staff table that overlooked the southern forest in her quest to find the source of the distraction. Traveling at them at a high rate of speed was a shockwave comprised of pure magical power. Thinking quickly, she shoved the boy under the table before screaming out, "PROTEGO!"

Her actions stopped all conversations in the Great Hall, for even though she was now labeled as an outcast the populace knew she was level-headed. Following her line of sight, the students and staff were quick to copy her motions just as the wave hit the castle. Every window imploded, raining a large amount of glass down on their heads. Those that couldn't generate shields –mostly by age but a few caught unawares- had taken shelter under the tables.

In the Dark Forests of Albania, a Shade momentarily flickered in and out of existence before a name whispered through the trees like a soft wind, yet completely and totally sinister in delivery.

"Harry Potter . . ."

July 30, 1994 Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging (Thirty-one days since end of term)

"Wow that was a good nap!" was the first thing to be vocalized by Harry Potter as he stretched, groaning in delight as various joints popped. Hearing a faint woof-bark, he spied his faithful familiar Hedwig out of her cage seeming imitating the stretches. Having paused to take in the antics of the owl, he heard more pops and grunts from his right.

"Harry Potter Sir, Dobby is happy that yous be feelings better," said the excitable elf while bending his neck left and right. "Dobby agrees with Master Harry Potter, best's sleep Dobby has had in many years."

"Dobby, I'm not your Master," was the instant rebuke, before feeling something different with his magic. He could swear that he could feel a 'status' of Dobby lurking in the back of his mind, informing him of the little elf's health, location, and mood. "Huh, do you feel that?"

The House-Elf paused in his version of stretches which included wagging his large ears to tilt his head to the right as if in deep contemplation. Then his eyes widened, not in horror as Harry could instinctively feel, but rather in absolute joy before he wrapped what he could of his arms around his Wizard and squeezing for all he was worth.

"Dobby does, Master Harry Potter!" was the excited exclamation occurring in tandem with a House-Elf Power Hug. Which considering Harry had been subjected to something similar from his Half-Giant friend Hagrid meant that it was not causing ribs to creak in protest. "We's be Bonded properly! Dobby is so happy, yes he is!"

While this was going on, Hedwig took note of the fact that the Familiar Bond she'd already had with her Master and Friend had been strengthened beyond anything she was aware of. Her own mother, her clutch and then the other owls at the Menagerie had told her of the joys being a Familiar could bring. What she felt now was a total and complete connection, going far deeper than any other of her kind before. Letting loose with a string of woofs, barks, and 'kuk-kuk-kuk's' got the attention of the duo now seated on the bed, before she 'felt' –for lack of a better term- the absolute joy radiate from her Master.

"Yes Hedwig, I feel you too," he said with reverence and awe, his own eyes widening in happiness. "And I can partially understand your version of speech! This is brilliant!"

Then the door shook rather violently, reminding the trio that they were in potentially hostile territory. Harry had yet to notice that his wand was no longer in his hand, instead he reacted on instinct and waved his hand at the door vanishing the melted locks.

"Ruddy freak, what the devil have you done to our house?!" demanded Vernon upon gaining entry, shotgun in hand. Other than the accessory that was far from legal in Britain, he looked about as normal as he could.

"What are you on about Uncle?" wondered Harry, bewildered at the excessive reaction he had garnered from the large man and why he looked like one of the deranged people that he loved to complain about.

"What am I-?! Idiot boy!" spluttered the elder Dursley male. "First you trash the entire ground floor, then you blow the power grid in the entire city, then you managed to hide my house with that freakishness to the point that I can't get any repairmen here! If there's one bright spot on the whole ordeal, I've been able to go to work even if I had to get a bloody Box for the mail!"

"A year?!" was the only thing Harry latched on to, having been used to the tirades of the Dursley's as a whole and filtering out their voices. "What the bloody hell do you mean a year Dursley?!"

"Don't you take that tone with me, boy!" was roared back accompanied by the shotgun lifting just a bit higher. "One year to the day since you whined like the impudent child you are about 'not feeling good'! I've about lost my mind, my job, my sister . . . everything normal! Ruddy freaks and their freakishness damn near killed me! Well, soon you will be dead and this nightmare will end!"

Tucking the butt of the gun under his right arm, Vernon sighted Harry's head and was about to pull the trigger when the boy became a blur of motion.

Harry himself didn't know what came over himself at that point, just that his magic responded to his gestures firing off a Stupefy and an Incarcerus from his left hand while an Expelliarmus and Petrificus Totalus flew from his right. The four spells hit nearly simultaneously, sending the overly large man flying down the hallway Stunned, Disarmed, Bound and temporarily Petrified to crash into the wall at the far end, head imbedded into the cheesy wallpaper. Looking around in surprise, he spied the window and thought nothing was amiss as he could see the neighborhood beyond in the evening light.

"To hell with you morons," rumbled Harry after a few moments of thought as another instinctive wave of his hands had his possessions packed then the loaded trunk shrunk to be pocket sized before sending Dobby and Hedwig out of the house. On his way to the front door he encountered Petunia, which he took advantage of to say one last thing to his last known blood relative. "I have never, and will never, consider this place to be home. As I live and breathe, as the magic granted me by my ancestors flows through my veins, I cast the last relation of the Evans line away. So say I, Harry James of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, so mote it be!"

A wave of magic poured forth, wiping the Wards out of existence. The neighbors that happened to be looking in the direction of the odd empty lot found themselves blinking owlishly as a house materialized from nowhere before their memories of one of the occupants was restored. They watched, utterly fascinated, as the miscreant Potter boy charged out the front door before heading in the direction of the Park near Magnolia Crescent.

"Run away freak! You are no longer welcome in this home!" Petunia shrieked, having run outside before realizing that her house was visible to the outside world for the first time in a year. To her dismay, several neighbors were watching the drama unfold, having nothing better to do.

Harry had situational awareness not normally seen in Wizard-kind. He was more than aware of the neighbors gawking as he exited the house, thus leading him to look for some place quiet and deserted before summoning the Knight Bus. He needed time to think, for there was so much going on that he was becoming aware of. One of his major thoughts, which became a strong desire, was to get to Gringotts to get the true sum of his holdings. As he ventured behind a tall hedgerow he felt his magic respond to said desire.

One step he was in Little Whinging, the next he was at the Apparation Point in Diagon Alley. Not breaking stride he stormed down the Alley, the people out and about shopping in the evening hour scattering like rats at his approach. The doors to Gringotts opened on their own, surprising the Goblins on guard duty and those that had been looking in that general direction before a literal powerhouse walked in.

Same Day, The Burrow, Ottery Saint Catchpole, Devonshire

"We are so screwed," whimpered Ron to the gathered Weasley's. With the exception of Bill and Charlie, the entire household had gathered around the dinner table to discuss the sudden resurgence of memories regarding one Harry Potter. The comment from the youngest son was in regards to what would happen when said Potter found out what he had been up to.

"Your own fault," said the Twins at the same time, looking grim. "We left well enough alone, even after you alienated Hermione."

"Don't you speak that name in this house!" thundered Molly, before glancing around looking for said person to pop out of the woodwork.

"No Molly," came from Arthur, looking every bit disappointed in his family. To him, they meant everything and their behavior over the past year was utterly unacceptable. "You have as much to be worried about as Ronald. We are talking about the boy that defeated one of the darkest Wizards in history at the age of fifteen months. I have a feeling . . ."

"What kind of feeling?" asked Percy, his demeanor neutral. On the inside, however, his thoughts were moving at Portkey speeds looking for an angle to attack this problem from. The only reason he was here instead of his new flat was pressure from Penelope to visit his family. He'd made a decision in regard to giving her the boot as soon as he returned home in thanks for getting him involved in this mess.

"Let's look at the facts," answered his father, leaning back in his chair. "All of us lost our memories of him. He was not seen at Hogwarts this year. Our memories come back, the day before his birthday. At the same time, we are now aware that we lost those memories exactly one year ago."

"It sounds like a Maturity," was the immediate conclusion that came from Ginny. When all eyes fell upon her person, she blushed before mumbling, "That Diary taught me a thing or two."

The silence became awkward after that statement, for it was the first time the youngest of the brood had talked about the Diary at all. The parents frowned deeply, wondering what else the being once known as Tom Riddle had dumped into her brain. Percy and the Twins had paled, being reminded that the subject of the previous discussion was the reason their sister was still alive.

"What the devil are you talking about?" was the unthinking Ron's response, ignoring the whole Diary issue because it tied into the fact that when Harry learned of his actions over the past year he knew there would be hell to pay. He was smart enough to hold no illusions that Hermione would talk about what he'd done.

"Every magical goes through a Maturity, males and females. It's not supposed to end until the age of seventeen, which is where the term Age of Majority came from. It begins at the age of fourteen to reduce sudden surges from the Core to prevent damages to the body," lectured Arthur to his four youngest, still reclined in his chair. "However, there are documented cases of sudden Maturities. One such case, which applies to Harry, is that he is the last of his House. Usually, that only bumps the Age to fifteen. He's to turn fourteen tomorrow, which implies the other documented cases which are of Blocks and Bindings on his Core. The memory loss is documented in both examples in regards to just how much power a Magical has. No-one, and I mean no-one, has gone beyond three months before. The fact that it's been a year . . . without a doubt, Harry is stronger than even Dumbledore. If this issue hadn't arisen, your Mother and myself would have taught you more about this nearer your seventeenth birthday to explain any of the last minute surges that occur just as we did with Bill, Charlie and Percy."

The rest of the Weasley family looked utterly stupefied at that point, having been lost after the comment about being stronger than Dumbledore. Then Arthur had to add another little tidbit.

"So yes, when he learns of your actions we are, as you so eloquently put it, screwed."

Gringotts Bank, Director Ragnok's office

"Time is money Master Ragnok," said Harry as he bowed, getting straight to the point. "I wish to know my holdings within this Grand Institution, and perform a Heritage Ritual to know where I came from in the familial sense."

The Elder Goblin seated on the other side of the massive mahogany desk simply nodded in approval of the Wizard in front of him. This one treated Goblins exactly how they wanted to be treated, as in not dawdling with pleasantries nor flinging about insults. Profit, Honor, Dignity was their philosophy after all in that order. He could sense that the youngling seated opposite had undergone a Maturity recently, which was why he was allowed the privilege of an Audience with the Director.

"We shall begin immediately," was the raspy response after a few moments of contemplation. Potter was one of the higher-end accounts after all, and for it to be active again meant Profits aplenty for the Goblin Nation.

Harry waited for the Director to stand before doing so himself, following the male Goblin through a side door silently. His mind, however, was running amok trying to understand where all of this new information and etiquette came from. It felt like home in a sense, stemming from his magic which led him to believe that it was ancient Family Magic at work. He'd only seen a few references in the Hogwarts Library in passing but never followed it up since nobody bothered to inform him of his families past. He used the plural due to nobody speaking up on behalf of his Mother beyond his eye color to date and he'd be damned if he ever spoke to, let alone asked, Petunia about her side of the family.

The silent duo walked through several corridors before entering a large cavern-type room. This room was different in that every available surface was covered in what appeared to be Runes of all types. In the center was a pedestal that held a basin and a ceremonial silver knife.

"This Heritage Ritual is different from the Ritual of Birth for Family Magic. Here, all you need to do is let blood flow into the basin and the magic will do the rest. Once the appropriate amount has been let, the wound will be healed by the ambient magic," explained Ragnok as he gestured forward.

Harry didn't pause in his walking, moving with purpose to said basin. Picking up the knife with his left hand, his sliced the palm of his right then held the now bleeding hand over the center of it. Looking down revealed a potion filling half of the stone bowl, which started swirling with colors as his blood slowly dripped into it. He was surprised by the fact that half a minute passed before he felt the skin of his hand stitching itself back together, which he took as his cue to examine it for scarring. Seeing none, he looked up at the far wall to see many of, what he first thought to be Runes, glowing either Gold or Silver. Now that they stood out against the others, he could plainly see that they were in fact Coat-of-Arms and Family Crests.

Ragnok felt his eyes widen in surprise as the room lit up like one of the Great Furnaces in the Catacombs. There was so much Gold coloring about that it danced like flame, while the Silver acted like the base of said flame. He'd lived a long, four-hundred year plus life and had never seen anything close to this before.

The neck of the pedestal made several noises that sounded suspiciously like a dot-matrix printer before spitting out ten feet worth of parchment at Harry's feet. As it was landing it retained its rolled shape becoming a scroll of all things. Reaching down, he picked it up and walked back to the Goblin Lord that had accompanied him into the room.

Again the duo were silent on the trek back to the Director's office, which seemed to involve less corridors and turns this time around. Apparently there was a lot of Profit to be had on this day, and Ragnok was as anxious as a Goblin could be to get started.

Upon entering the office, Harry handed the scroll over before returning to his chair. He waited for Ragnok to be seated before doing so himself, then relaxed into the plush leather and waited to be addressed.

"Oh what a Glorious Day!" Ragnok finally barked, eyes alight with the potential held in his hands. Some of these Vaults had been idle for millennia, even those that held little gold while others that were fuller had been collecting dust for the last decade or so. Feeding the parchment into a slot on his desk, various books and portfolios of all things began appearing at random. Several times other Goblins would venture into the domain of their Liege with another book –or several- in hand, effectively burying the desk and blocking the view between Harry and Ragnok.

That view was restored in quick order as everything compressed into a single book once the last was delivered. The cover opened slightly before literally coughing up a summary sheet. This garnered a raised eyebrow from Harry but no verbal response. He did spy the ornate box that had appeared, which looked to be twenty-by-twenty-by-eight centimeters total. Of course, with magic involved, the interior space could be comparable to the Great Hall at Hogwarts for all he knew.

"My Liege," began Ragnok, effectively bringing most of his brain processes to a halt, "this is a great day for both yourself and the Nation. Here is the summary parchment of your Vaulted holdings and property's. This box contains the Signet Rings and Heir Apparent Rings of the Families you either directly control or are Heir to. This book has more detailed information, and is also the new Potter Family Grimiore. In it is the histories of the families and the secrets contained within the Family Magic's. Is there anything else you'd prefer to accomplish today?"

"Only to assign an Account Manager," answered Harry on autopilot, his mind not completely rebooted yet. "I am unaware if Treaty limits Profits for the Nation; in that regard I'd like it if either yourself or Gripsack would bestow upon my House the honor of being Account Manager. If there's no Treaty limit, whomever it is gets free rein with forty percent of the Gold to invest aggressively and gets to retain ten percent of the returns."

"I like you, Wizard," was the immediate response. "Yes, there is a Treaty Limit set at five percent of returns. However, since you've stipulated forty-percent of your capitol for investing, that five percent would make the Ministry for Magic budget for the next decade every business week. I must decline myself, as Treaty also forbids the Director from having direct influence over the clients. Gripsack, on the other hand, is available."

"Offer it to him, and on the way off chance that he declines select a Goblin that you trust the most. It would be bad for business if certain parties could get their hands on my gold," Harry said as he stood, pocketing the book, parchment and box. "That concludes our transaction for today. May your Gold forever increase and your enemies flee in terror."

"May your life be long and your enemies delicious when served at your table," Ragnok replied while bowing ever so slightly. It was refreshing to have a wizard, regardless of name, treat a Goblin in the exact way they wanted.

Harry wasted little time getting from Gringotts to the Leaky Cauldron. Night was moments away, and the denizens of Knockturn Alley were lurking closer to the intersection with Diagon than they did in the day. Getting a room from Tom the barkeep, number eleven, he went there with his dinner order of Sheppard's Pie and chips with two bottles of Butterbeer to wash it down.

Having gotten his gullet stuffed, he pulled out the summary parchment and began to read. He'd not done this in Gringotts for one it was rude, and two he would probably wind up insulting the Liege-Lord of the Goblins questioning their accuracy.

SUMMARY OF HOLDINGS AND FAMILY TIES

Person Tested:

Name: Harry James Potter

Age: Thirteen (As of day of Heritage Ritual)

Magical Status: Adult-Unlimited/Unrestricted

Magical Power (Scale 1-1000): UNKNOWN-Power readings greater than top of scale.

Abilities:

Natural Occlumens, Natural Legillimens, Natural Mage, Natural Empath, Natural Animagus, Natural UNKNOWN, Natural UNKNOWN, Natural UNKNOWN, Natural UNKNOWN, Natural (Conquest) Parselmouth, Artificial Soul Anchor

Head of:

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter-BIRTHRIGHT

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Emrys-BIRTHRIGHT

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor-BIRTHRIGHT

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell-BIRTHRIGHT

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Ravenclaw-Ancestral Will Appointee

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Hufflepuff-Ancestral Will Appointee

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin-RITE OF CONQUEST

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black-WILL APPOINTEE

Most Noble and Ancient House of Bones-WILL APPOINTEE-Patriarchal Family-PACT Between Houses Potter and Bones (Lord James/Lord Edgar)

Most Noble and Ancient House of McKinnon-WILL APPOINTEE-Patriarchal Family-PACT Between Houses Potter and McKinnon (Lord James/Lord Patrick)

Most Noble and Ancient House of Jones-WILL APPOINTEE-Patriarchal Family-PACT Between Houses Potter and Jones (Lord James/Lord Roger)

Most Noble and Ancient House of Lovegood-WILL APPOINTEE-Matriarchal Family-Vassal Pact Between Houses Potter and Lovegood (Lady Lily/Lady Celestine)-CONTROL REVERTS TO DAUGHTER OF LOVEGOOD UPON MATURITY

The list of families just kept going. Making a decision while on a loo break to skim that section for now as he needed to read the wills, he looked into what monies he had available.

Vaulted Holdings:

Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter:

Vault numbers: 2; 7; 27; 43; 76; 83; 294; 687

Cash-on-hand (combined):

976,432,098,654 Galleons

7,765,321 Sickles

4,123,098 Knuts

Numerous twenty gallon barrels full of precious gems.

487,293 Trunks

870,583,468 Book/Scroll Collections

Investments/Commercial Properties (Combined; Magical/Mundane)

Diagon Alley-Land built upon (minus Gringotts Territory)-Full

Knockturn Alley-Land built upon-Full

Flourish and Blotts: Forty-two percent

Slug and Juggers: Eighteen percent

The Quibbler Magazine: Fifty-one percent

The Three Broomsticks: Twenty percent

Honeyduke's: Eighty percent

British Petroleum: Five percent

Airbus: Thirty percent

Boeing: Ten percent

Microsoft: Thirteen percent


End file.
